


Angels

by lgbtjshaught



Series: you're the song my heart is beating to [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 18:46:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lgbtjshaught/pseuds/lgbtjshaught
Summary: Fate. Love. Protection. Pain. Flesh. Love.A song oneshot based around Nicole's life. Childhood - post season 3.Based on 'Angels' by Robbie Williams.





	Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhh!!! Okay so this is my first ever oneshot and subsequently my first ever song oneshot. I'm very insecure about it but I hope it's alright?? Just an idea I've had in my head since the finale - I feel the song fits wayhaught perfectly.
> 
> Enjoy (I hope?!?)

_ I sit and wait. Does an angel contemplate my  _ **_fate_ ** _ , _

_ - _

Fate:  something destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way.

 

Fate was something that came in many different forms with many meanings. 

 

Fate was surviving a cult massacre as a 6 year old child, parents out of the country and her most loving family members, her aunt and uncle,  _ deceased _ . Nicole didn’t know the meaning of that word when she first heard it. At the time she was sat on a deep blue plastic chair at the station, feet dangling a few inches above the epoxy flooring. Officer Nedley had mumbled the words through the phone to the other occupant, voice raising with anger slightly at the response from them.

 

 _“You’re child of six years is the only survivor of a demonic-like cult massacre and you won’t come and pick her up for_ 2 days _just because you payed for first class flights for a vacation you took_ without _her? Maybe think about where your priorities lie before deciding to have a kid.”_

 

A few hours later and she was transported in a police cruiser to a secluded bungalow, bearing a middle-aged man and woman on its front porch. The woman had short brown, but fading, curly hair and the man balding but with short chocolate brown hairs covering the back of his head.

 

“This is Gus and Curtis, Nicole. They’re going to take care of you for a few days until your parents can make it out here and take you home.”

 

Young Nicole just nodded. She hadn’t said much to anybody since being pulled out of the canoe, shaking and gripping tightly to the scarf her aunt had provided her with before everything went to hell. She could hardly string a proper thought together, the screams and cries from the night before filling her mind, bubbling at the surface like a volcano waiting to explode. She wanted to cry, to feel something. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t supposed to.  _ “Crying is for wimps with no backbone, princess,” _ her father had told her. She hated him calling her that. She didn’t know why at her age but something about it just made her feel off.

 

Nedley stayed with her for a bit while she got settled into her house for, only leaving when she nodded at him after he asked if she was alright. Curtis kneeled down to her and asked if she wanted to watch the television, ruffling her hair as he stood when she gave another nod. She settled herself on the couch and took the plate of food from Gus after Curtis had turned the channel to the kids one. The pair seemed nice. Nicole felt safe around them.

 

Looking around the room, her eyes landed upon a framed photo on the mantle of three young girls, all dressed up and grinning. They were positioned in height order from tallest to smallest, a small space between the taller two and the smallest.

 

Nicole blinked as she took in her home for the following days. She couldn’t shake the thought that she felt more comfortable in this home with two complete strangers than in her real home with her parents 7 hours away.

 

-

_ So when I’m lying in my bed, thoughts running through my head, and I feel that  _ **_love is dead_ ** _ , _

-

Love: something that was supposed to be unconditional from your parents.

 

Nicole had found out that this was a lie at age 16. 

 

She had been in her bedroom kissing her crush of 2 years and behind-church smoking buddy when her parents walked in. They had shooed the girl out immediately all the while yelling obscenities at the flame-haired girl and expressing their disappointment on her being like  _ that _ . She took off down the stairs when her father muttered with a chillingly calm voice  _ “get out” _ , a steely look in his eyes. She didn’t leave the property, though, and instead sat on the gravel driveway, the tears rolling down her cheeks almost non-existent as her body went numb. Ten minutes later the front door opened, a black duffle bag filled with clothes and 20 dollar bill fell to the ground next to her feet, the impact shooting small stones up at her body before the door slammed shut just as quickly as it had opened.

 

She rose up to a standing position, grabbed the bag and walked down the drive, away from the life she once had lived. Each step became lighter as she progressed, the weight lifting off of her shoulders. The controlling chains and manacles of her mind dropping off of her limbs with every metre she covered. She was free. She didn’t really know where she was going - she figured she’d just couch surf in various different places until she was old enough to join the academy.

 

Nicole just walked. Her spirit was intact but love was dead. 

 

-

_ And through it all she offers me  _ **_protection_ ** _ , _

-

Protection:  the action of protecting, or the state of being protected.

 

She had always been a protector.

 

Sometimes to a fault. 

 

As a child she hadn’t had anybody there to look out for her. Her parents barely acknowledged her existence, she had no friends. Her aunt and uncle had always been there for her but there was only so much they could do. Her life had always been lonely.

 

Of course, as she grew up she had met new people but nothing was ever permanent. She switched trusting people for bottling up. 

 

Lovers only got so far as a few dates. Maybe a couple of months, if they were lucky.

 

Friends were no more than a familiar face at work or a drinking buddy at the closest bar.

 

Nicole’s life was quiet and lonely. But, if opening up to people meant the possibility of a broken relationship and an unfixed heart, she would endure it. Anything to protect her heart that had been so regularly broken in such little time.

 

She met Shae not long after her 24th birthday.

 

A spontaneous trip to Las Vegas and a big win at the slot machines had brought them together. They had been talking and flirting all night and Shae was just there when Nicole had hit the big bucks. In a drunk and jackpot-induced haze, the words “let’s get married” had slipped out of the redheads mouth. An equally drunk brunette doctor had replied in agreement to the offer quicker than either had time to realise what was even happening. 

 

Morning had hit Nicole like a freight train and, if she didn’t know better, the pain was now condensed in her head. She groaned and turned over only to be met with another body. 

 

Both the body and herself were naked. 

 

And in bed together. Oh boy.

 

The cool sensation on her left ring finger had torn her eyes from the woman next to her. 

 

A ring. 

 

Golden.

 

Perfectly circular and the correct thickness.

 

Oh  _ boy _ .

 

She looked back up to the woman and found wide eyes staring back, equally taken aback. The combination of her panic and the surprise of seeing the woman awake had startled her off of the bed and onto the floor, her arm breaking in the process.

 

Nicole and Shae had spent the morning, afternoon and evening together at the hospital. The break had required surgery and Shae had promised -  _ vowed _ \- to stay so that they could properly talk things out after. Then Nicole had nearly died. Allergic to Thiopental, they told her when she finally woke up.

 

The women agreed to work things out and see if they could actually make it as a couple. It lasted three months. Neither women could deal with the long distance and, if they were being honest, there had never been a spark. 

 

Well, romantically, anyway. 

 

Spending time talking to Shae, trying to see if anything in their marriage was salvageable had made Nicole realise just how lonely she really was. She slowly opened up to Shae, started to trust her. They were never made to marry but  _ damn _ did they love to call one another a friend.

 

Shae was Nicole’s first friend. Her first proper, true friend. 

 

Nicole no longer protected just her heart, she protected her  _ friend _ , also.

 

Fast forward to around 2 years later and Nicole found herself sat on the edge of her bathtub, eyes releasing so many tears they could fill it on their own. 

 

She had lied to Waverly. Kept her DNA results from her. She thought that she was protecting her. 

 

She sobbed alone in her house, crying to herself. She mumbled that she thought she was doing the right thing. That she had made a huge mistake. She hated herself for saying those three perfect words in manipulation. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

 

Always a protector. To a fault.

 

-

_ When I’m feeling weak and my  _ **_pain_ ** _ walks down a one way street, _

-

Pain: mental suffering or distress.

 

The nightmares had caught Nicole completely off guard. Things with her and Waverly had finally been sorted and their trust and relationship was growing stronger day by day. Nicole had even moved into the homestead. So when Nicole had been scared from sleep, sweat drowning her purple bed shirt, heartbeat erratic and Waverly’s concerned eyes above her she had known something wasn’t right. 

 

She talked to Dolls about it, describing the all too vivid images of her nightmare to him. He just moved from his desk to the filing cabinet, pulled out a thick, old case and dropped it on the surface in front of her. The case name read ‘Cult of Bulshar’ and it was like a switch had gone off in her head. Visuals of her aunt and uncle dying in front of her flashed before her eyes. Then the canoe sitting upon the lake. The last image was of a man with a thick mustache sat behind a desk holding a phone to his ear. The whole picture was a blur except for the man. He looked so familiar but Nicole couldn’t quite pinpoint who he reminded her of.

 

Later that evening she snuggled with Waverly on her -  _ their _ \- bed and just layed there, her girlfriend wrapped up in her arms. The calm, quiet setting was a direct juxtaposition to the noise inside of her brain. She was stuck in there trying to unjumble the visions of the massacre and understand why this was only happening to her now. The only thing that would pull her from the depths of her mind was the slight shuffle or squeeze from a sleeping Waverly.

 

She didn’t go to sleep with a broken heart that night, but with a broken mind instead.

 

-

_ As the feeling grows, she breathes  _ **_flesh_ ** _ to my bones, _

-

 

Flesh: the soft substance consisting of muscle and fat that is found between the skin and bones.

 

Waverly Earp. In flesh and bones and in front of Nicole and Wynonna for the first time in 7 months, looking almost identical to how she did on the day she was trapped within the Garden.

 

She looked weak. Her clothes were almost beyond recognition - every thread either black from dirt or sliced open. Her hair was withered but still held up in her bun, the other strands framing her face perfectly. Dark purple bags shadowed her beautiful, soft eyes as she stared back at the two; pale skinned and unsure if the women were really in front of her.

 

Nicole thought she had never looked more stunning than in that moment.

 

7 months Nicole had been dreaming of seeing her face again.

 

7 months of heartbreak.

 

7 months of alcohol marathons, sleepless nights and both mental and physical breakdowns, accompanied by Wynonna. 

 

7 months of calling Waverly’s number only to remain unanswered and left to voicemail. Every time she heard the message Waverly left before the beep that she had remembered word for word, Nicole told Waverly “yes, of course I’ll marry you”.

 

And so that was the first thing to come out of the redhead’s mouth when Waverly had tumbled out of the door leading to the garden which was now nowhere to be seen. 

 

Despite her exhaustion, terror and confusion, Waverly smiled brighter than all of the stars in space put together. The air was knocked out of Nicole’s lungs and all she could do was smile equally as wide back. The world felt like putty in their hands, they felt free to take on the universe and everything it threw at them. They were, of course, interrupted by Wynonna.

 

It was during the hour of golden sun between day and night when Nicole studied Waverly for the thousandth time. The sunlight flitting through the homestead windows shone through her _fianceé_ , creating an almost halo-like circle upon her hair. Their promise rings, a temporary replacement until they got proper ones, sat upon their ring fingers perfectly.

 

Nicole smiled. She was now engaged to get married, properly, to the love of her life. Her soulmate. Her person. 

 

Fate was a ginger Sheriff’s Deputy walking into an almost empty bar and asking the brunette barmaid for a cappuccino to go.

 

But this?

 

This was love.

-

**_I’m loving angels instead._ **

-


End file.
